Mixed Bag - A Biggles' Extraordinary Close Encounter
by TootsLogan
Summary: Biggles and his pals encounter more than they reckoned on when they come face to face with not only Kirk, Spock & McCoy, but Starbuck & Apollo and a certain Doctor (as well as a few other characters who are drawn into this wibbly-wobbly timeline confusion.
1. Chapter 1

**Mixed Bag – Biggles' Close Encounter of the Extraordinary Kind**

A/N

This is a fic that I wrote over 30 years ago to amuse my family – before I was aware of such things as "fanfiction" and "crossover" genre! I'm not really sure where to place it on because of the numbers of crossovers involved – all our family favourites from that era. Anyone interested in reading will find, as well as "Biggles" the following TV series from the late '70s early '80s included – "Star Trek – TOS" (written years before TNG was birthed), "Battlestar Galactica" (the original series), "TJ Hooker", "The Professionals", and "Dr Who" (Tom Baker's era). This has also been published on a forum under another name – so please, don't think this is plagiarism. It's all my work – I've simply muddied the waters by writing under two different names.

(And – for any long-suffering followers who are awaiting long overdue updates on my stories in other genre, I've truly had a bad case of writer's block and am trying to work on them. I thought by posting a long-ago completed story, might kick my fickle muse into action. Anyway, here's hoping…)

**Chapter One:**

[The North Sea, 1942…]

Biggles hunched over the control column of the Beaufort as it struggled across the North Sea towards the English coastline. He glanced towards Algy in the other seat and grimaced. 'It's going to be close, I'm afraid.'

Algy was watching the growing specks behind them: the Messerschmitts were gaining. Bertie was hunched into the rear gunner's position, the weapon pointing aft and upwards, his eyes never leaving the pursuing enemy. Ginger, in the forward turret also had his guns trained on the 109s. All four knew they presented a sitting target, but were preparing to sell their lives dearly. Biggles' lips drew together in a thin line as he anticipated exactly when the line of tracer would dance towards them. Kicking the rudder bar hard, he skidded the Beaufort sideways and the enemy fire slid harmlessly by. Ginger and Bertie chose their targets carefully and calmly fired despite the erratic behaviour of their own aircraft. Bertie scored a direct hit and immediately concentrated on another Swastika-bedecked fighter.

'Persistent little blighters,' he muttered to no one in particular. One Messerschmitt drew ahead of the others, its guns blazing. Ginger swung his guns around to keep it in his sights. But just as his finger closed on the firing mechanism, a great shudder went through the British 'plane.

'He's got us,' was Ginger's last conscious thought as his head hit the side of the turret and he slumped over the gun.

…

[USS _Enterprise_ 1701 - Somewhere in space…Stardate - undisclosed]

Kirk turned slightly in the command chair to direct his attention to Spock and McCoy who were arguing at the science station.

'Bones…' he began wearily. Next moment he was thrown to the deck as the _Enterprise_ shuddered violently. As abruptly as it began, the tremor ceased, and various crewmembers slowly picked themselves up from the deck. 'Scotty! What in the universe just hit us?' demanded the captain, hitting his communication switch.

'I dinna ken, Cap'n.' The engineer's broad accent betrayed his agitation. 'But we've had a sudden power drain, that I c'n tell ye.'

Spock turned from his console. 'Captain, it would appear that whatever just struck us has also hurled the _Enterprise_ across the galaxy. We are in the Sol system – approaching earth.'

Kirk stared at his Science Officer then turned to the navigator. 'Mr Chekov! What are your readings?'

'The same as Mister Spock's, sair. Earth is approximately 400,000km away.'

'Well,' Kirk shrugged expressively and exchanged a glance with Spock. 'Lieutenant Uhura, contact Star Fleet and advise them of our position.' A few seconds later, the Communications Officer spun back to Kirk. 'Sir, I can't raise anyone on that channel. It's all static. Just like it was that other time…' her voice trailed off uncertainly. Kirk spun towards Spock who was straightening from his viewer.

'The Lieutenant is correct, Captain. We do indeed appear to be in the 20th Century once more.'

'The 20th century!' McCoy glared from one to the other. 'How in the hell…?'

' 'How' is no longer relevant, Doctor,' interrupted Spock. 'The fact is we are here and we must deal with the situation with a minimum of histrionics.'

'Histrionics! Why, you…!'

'Bones!' Kirk's voice held sufficient warning to quieten the doctor who contented himself with clasping his hands behind his back, pursing his lips and rocking on his toes. 'Exactly what time in the 20th Century, Spock?'

'1982, Captain.' Spock hesitated and moved closer to Kirk. 'Sir, we will be plainly visible to the detection systems of this time.'

'Yes, indeed, Mr Spock. Suggestions?'

'Since Mr Scott assures us we still have impulse power, I would suggest we position ourselves on the dark side of earth's moon where we will not be detected. Then we can address the problem of repairing the warp engines and returning to our own time.' Kirk nodded in agreement and within seconds the _Enterprise_ was streaking towards the moon and was soon 'parked' behind it. Once their concealed simultaneous orbit behind the moon had been established, Kirk called his senior staff to the briefing room.

'Any idea what caused it this time?' he asked, looking at the First Officer.

'It would appear to have been artificially induced, Captain,' answered the Vulcan after an infinitesimal pause. Kirk pounced.

'But you're not 100% certain, Spock?'

An elegant eyebrow rose. 'I am ninety nine point…'

'Spare us the decimal places, Spock,' interrupted McCoy in exasperation.

'Why the doubt, Spock?' Kirk silenced McCoy with a look.

….

[CI5 office – London…1982]

'All right, you two. Just remember why you're going to Los Angeles.' Cowley glared across his desk at Bodie and Doyle.

'Yeah. To bring back a couple of would-be terrorists. Don't worry, sir. I'll keep Doyle in line,' Bodie grinned at his partner's exasperation.

'Aye, but who'll keep you in line, Bodie? That's what worries me,' Cowley sighed as Doyle grinned at the pained look on his partner's face. 'Go on, off you go, the pair of you. And be back here Friday week with Trenton and Murphy in tow!'

'Yes sir,' chorused Cowley's top operatives as they executed mock salutes before leaving their chief's office.

….

[Los Angeles…1982]

'Who are these British cops we've got to meet, Hooker?'

'A couple of very cool operators, Ramano. I met their boss a few years ago. They work for CI5. It's a special group. Anti-terrorist…that sort of thing.'

'And we've got to baby-sit them for a week?'

Romano's disgruntled remark made Hooker raise his eyebrows. 'Why should you be so upset? They're staying at my new apartment.'

'I know you, Hooker. My whole week's social life will go down the drain!'

…..

[Somewhere else in space…Date - undisclosed]

'Starbuck, we're going to have to vacate this space!' Apollo's voice cracked urgently in Starbuck's ears. As it happened he couldn't agree more. Being outnumbered 40 Cylons to two Galactic Warriors was definitely not good odds. No sort of a gamble at all. Just plain suicide.

'I'm with you, good buddy,' he agreed fervently. The two pilots fired their boosters and shot across space, heading for their rendezvous with the _Galactica_. Apollo shook his head as a moment of disorientation trembled through his body. In the Viper alongside, Starbuck gave himself a quick shake as a wave of nausea hit him.

'You okay, Starbuck?' asked his captain.

'Umm, yeah. Must have been the sight of all those Cylons!'

'Well, we seem to have lost them now.' There was silence as both men studied their screens. The Cylons had certainly vanished – and that wasn't all.

'Uhh…Apollo. Where exactly are we?'

'Good question,' replied Apollo wryly. Starbuck raised his brows and looked across at Apollo's Viper.

'I guess we're lost, then,' he muttered.

…

[Long Beach, California…1982]

Inside the _Tardis_, the Doctor stared disconsolately at the control console.

'Admit it, Doctor,' sighed Romana. 'You've lost us again.'

'Lost?' The Doctor's eyes rounded indignantly. 'I know **precisely **where we are.'

'But not **when**, master,' K-9 rolled to a halt beside the Time Lord.

'Oh dear, here we go again,' muttered the girl. 'Where are we then, "precisely"?'

'There's no need for sarcasm, Romana. We're back on earth.'

'Well, that's something, anyway.' Romana smiled her relief. 'When both the No.1 and the No.2 polarity materialising actuators blew, I thought we'd had it. Well, as long as it's earth, I'm going outside for a look around.' When the door opened, the girl peered out cautiously and then stepped out. The blue London Police Box had materialised amongst a clutter of old buildings lining one side of a narrow road. On the far side, a rock wall led from the road to a sandy shoreline. Sea gulls wheeled overhead. A background growl of mechanised traffic permeated the air. 'At a guess, Doctor, I'd say we're sometime in the late 20th Century – probably around the early 1980s.'

'Very astute, Romana. What'd you base that guess on?' The Doctor's voice was muffled. His head and shoulders had vanished beneath the control console.

'Oh, just a quick summation of the local backdrop,' shrugged the girl with a grin. She rested a hand on K-9's head. Several motor vehicles were parked along the street. They bore labels with the year of registration on their windscreens. 'Oh, I think we're somewhere in California, too. K-9 and I are going to have a quick look around, Doctor.'

'What? Oh, um – of course. Whatever…' The Doctor's muffled voice was distracted.

'Come along, K-9,' commanded Romana as she closed the _Tardis's_ door and crossed the street.

…..


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

[LAX…]

Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances. They had cleared customs at LA International Airport and still no one had met them. 'What's this copper's name?' Bodie eyed a couple of local beauties as they sauntered past.

'Sergeant Hooker.'

The two British CI5 agents spun around. Hooker extended his hand and shook each of theirs in turn. 'Welcome to L.A. Sorry we're late. This is Romano, my partner.'

'Bodie.'

'Doyle.'

'I met your boss a couple of years ago when I was in London. Great guy.'

'Yeah. If you like slave drivers,' grinned Bodie.

'Don't pay any attention to him, sergeant,' said Doyle. 'He's lazy. Cowley only keeps him on out of pity.'

Romano felt his mouth falling open but he closed it smartly when he saw the grins flashing among the other three men. In that brief exchange they had summed one another up, each side obviously approving of the other. Hooker spread his arms and clapped the two British visitors on the shoulders. 'Come on, my meter's running.'

They were driving south on 405 when the call came. Hooker glanced over his shoulder at his passengers. 'Sorry. Looks like we'll have to take a detour and investigate.' The black and white swung onto the exit ramp and turned west towards Long Beach.

…..

(Briefing Room, _Enterprise_…)

Spock hesitated slightly again. When he spoke, it was as if he were selecting his words with even greater care than usual. 'A natural phenomenon, such as we have experienced previously, should have been detectable through our sensor readings. I have run a thorough check. No natural phenomenon has been detected.'

'In other words, Spock, you don't know what's caused it!"

Kirk frowned at his CMO. 'This is no time for scoring points, Bones,' he warned. 'Spock, if this hasn't been caused naturally, would you care to speculate as to what, and why, we are here?'

'Speculate, Captain? There could be a great number of reasons. I have insufficient data on which to base any…'

'I told you, Jim. He doesn't know,' crowed McCoy gleefully.

'Bones.' There was no mistaking the threat in Kirk's voice. 'Spock, are you saying that what happened just now is anybody's guess?'

'You could say that, Captain. It is scarcely a precise…'

'But in the absence of evidence to the contrary,' interrupted the frustrated captain, 'you believe this has been artificially induced?'

'That is correct.'

'Why?' Kirk demanded, bringing his fist down on the table. 'Why would anyone bring us back to this time? Who would have the technology?'

'If we can answer the latter question, Captain, then I believe we will find the answer to the former.'

Kirk nodded his agreement and turned to his chief engineer. 'What's the damage, Mr Scott?'

'We-ll. It's not irreparable, but it is a mite tricky, Captain. The warp drive will need a wee bit of tender handlin' to bring it back on line again. The dilithium crystals havena' cracked as I feared they might, but I wouldna' like to put them under any more strain till I get the engines repaired.'

'Does that represent a problem, Scotty?' Kirk wondered if Scott's precious engines would ever _not_ present him with problems. Still, he knew that if anyone could repair the damage, then Scott was that man.

'Aye, it just may. I've not had a chance to complete my checks, but if my suspicions are correct, then we'll need some _negative kryatons_ manufactured to help repower the warp drive. I suspect there's a crack in the ionisation circuits. It'll take a wee bit of time to correct the damage.'

'Do we have everything you need?' Kirk quizzed.

'If Mr Scott is correct, Captain, we are going to need some plutonium for the matter/ antimatter mix. We do not have any on board at this time. Mr Scott was planning on restocking when we reached Starbase.' Spock's matter-of-fact statement confirmed Kirk's suspicions.

'Damn. I was hoping we could avoid going down.' He thought for a moment. When he spoke, his decision was made. 'Very well. Scotty, get cracking on those repairs. Spock and I will go get you your supplies. Write out your shopping list.'

'Shopping list, Captain?' the First Officer's eyebrow rose eloquently. 'I hardly think we will be able to walk into a store in this time period and purchase the items which we require.'

'Well, Mr Spock, that's a little problem I'm sure you'll be able to solve for us,' replied Kirk, deadpan.

The eyebrow rose dangerously, but Spock maintained a long-suffering silence. McCoy was grinning.

'You gonna send Spock in to rob some Earth government's high security military stores, Jim?' he drawled.

'No, I'm going to send you, Bones.' For once the CMO was silenced. 'You have the conn, Mr Scott. We shall endeavour to return as soon as possible with the goods. At least our communications are all working. I'll check in with Uhura every hour.'

'Aye, sir. Good luck.'

Kirk, Spock and McCoy stepped onto the transporter pads. As Kirk nodded, the Engineer moved the controls and they sparkled out of sight to reassemble thousands of kilometres below, in the unknown environment of late 20th century earth.

…..

[Meanwhile….elsewhere in space….]

'Apollo, do you have any idea at all where we might be?' Starbuck looked across space to where his friend's Viper flew alongside.

'No idea at all. How about you?'

'I was pinning all my hopes on you, Captain, sir,' muttered Starbuck. 'But we're going to run out of fuel shortly. We need to find a friendly planet – and soon!'

'Opinion noted – and appreciated. My Viper has about two hour's fuel remaining. What about yours?'

'The same – give or take a micron or two.'

'I'm calling up the nav. computer again, Starbuck. It may have been able to compute our position by now.'

The navigational computer, sophisticated though it was, was unable to provide the two Galactic Warriors with any helpful information that matched the stars they could see all around them.

'Apollo, I'm picking up a strange signal. It's coming from some planet in that solar system coming on the screen now.'

'I'm getting something, too. Overlay yours with mine and let's see if they're the same.'

'Well, what are we gonna do about it, good buddy?' queried the lieutenant when they had confirmed both were receiving the same signal.

'Follow it, my friend. Come on. We've nothing to lose – and we've got to do _something_!'

A short time later Apollo and Starbuck were staring at their computer screens in disbelief. 'Starbuck, are we dreaming – or have we found Earth?'

'Well, it certainly fits all the descriptions I've ever heard about it and it matches the computer description, too. Better feed all the coordinates into the computer so we can find it again and bring Adama and the fleet here.'

'Yeah. But we have to get ourselves enough fuel to get back to the _Galactica_ first. We'll have to land somewhere and check it all out – without rousing suspicion. We don't know what things will be like down there. It's been a long time since the lost tribe settled this planet. Let's take it all quietly for starters. Our first priority is to get fuel for the vipers so we can find out way home.'

'Whatever you say, Captain, sir.' Starbuck sketched a mock salute and slid into position behind his leader.

….

Algy gave his head a brief shake, trying to clear the buzzing. It was a mistake.

'Open your eyes slowly – and have a look around – carefully.' Biggles was watching him from the left-hand seat. This time Algy was able to gaze downwards from the cockpit without feeling as if the whole universe was spinning away from him.

'What happened? Where are we?' He frowned as he looked down at the unfamiliar landscape. 'How long was I out to it?'

'Firstly, I don't know what happened. Last thing I remember was the Huns on our tails. Next thing I knew, we were here – wherever "here" is. It doesn't look like any part of Scotland or England to me. I must have blacked out, too – so I haven't a clue how long you've been out either. Pop back and check on the others, will you? I'll try to get a bearing somehow.'

Algy carefully made his way back to where Ginger and Bertie had also recovered consciousness and were gazing curiously at the landscape below.

'I say, old top,' began Bertie, 'if I didn't know it was bally well impossible, I'd say those hills down there look remarkably like the San Gabriels in California, just behind Los Angeles. Of course, it's impossible. But I did fly over them once with a friend before the war. Oh, upon my word…' Bertie's voice trailed off as he looked ahead. The three men stared in disbelief, then Algy scrambled back to his seat in the cockpit.

'Tell me we're all hallucinating, Biggles. That's not the Pacific Ocean in front of us, is it? Where on earth _are_ we? What's that city down there!'

'If we're hallucinating, then we're doing it together,' replied the Squadron Leader grimly. 'That's not all. I'll have to find somewhere to put her down – pretty quickly, too. We're just about running on empty.'

Algy glanced at the fuel indicator, realised that comment was unnecessary and concentrated on looking for a possible landing ground below. There appeared to be several choices. He nudged his CO's arm and pointed down. Biggles nodded as he, too, spied the area his friend was indicating. Some minutes later, the Beaufort was bumping across a deserted airfield somewhere in Orange County, California. All four climbed out and carefully looked around. The field was obviously an airfield of some sort – the windsock revealed that much. A busy highway passed nearby. The four RAF men watched the passing traffic without comment, then they looked at one another.

'Biggles, I don't know where we are, but I'm darned sure we're **not** anywhere in the British Isles. Look at those cars, and lorries. Have you ever seen anything like them before?' Not to mention they're all left-hand drive…' Algy's question was purely rhetorical: he did not expect an answer.

'From topsides, the little I saw looked like southern California,' said Bertie slowly, 'but, that city – well, it's just too big to be Los Angeles. It's only four years since I was here with that actor chappie and his wife. I did a bit of aviating around the place then and I recognised the mountains and the coastline. But everything else is rather – well, different.'

'Okay. Let's take it easy,' Biggles raised a hand. 'For one thing, it's too warm for us to be home,' – as he peeled off his heavy flying jacket – 'it's winter in England right now. I don't know what's happened; nor where we are right now. We must remember that Jerry has all sorts of tricks up his sleeve, although this seems a bit much even for von Stalhein. Let's have a bit of a reconnoitre. Algy, I'm afraid you'll have to stay with the machine. Bertie, you stay with him. Ginger, come with me and let's see what we can find out.'

They began to move away from the aircraft when a noise such as they had never heard before assaulted their ears. 'What the…' Biggles and Ginger staggered back towards their comrades, hands covering their ears as they all stared unbelievingly at the two strange aircraft roaring in to land. 'Quick! Back inside.'

The four fell back inside and Algy slammed the door. Bertie was handing out weapons. As they watched, the two craft came to a halt, not far away. The cockpit canopies were raised and two figures appeared.

….


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Apollo and Starbuck slid to the ground and removed their helmets.

'What now, Apollo?' Starbuck queried. 'I think the guys in that – um – whatever it is – over there, saw us arrive.' The two Galactic Warriors gazed at the Beaufort.

'I think you're right. Still, this _is_ earth and we've got to make contact with someone to get help somehow. I'm going over to talk to them.'

'Uh, Apollo – Captain – do you think that's exactly a good idea? They might ask questions.'

'Well, there's only one way to find out. You stay here and cover my back.' Apollo strode towards the British machine. Starbuck watched him walk away, ruefully shaking his head.

'Hey, you guys! In there! I'd like to talk to you. Can you open up?' After a short wait, the door opened to reveal four men in uniforms that were as strange to Apollo as his was to them. One of them slowly moved into the doorway and sprang lightly to the ground. The others remained watching from the cabin. Biggles looked warily at the young man before him. He didn't recognise the uniform. But then, he didn't recognise the aircraft either. Something very strange was happening. He wished he didn't feel quite so disorientated.

'er – would you mind telling me… '

'I wonder if you can help…'

They looked at one another and began again.

'We seem to be off…'

'I'm a stranger around…'

Biggles held up a hand, shaking his head slightly. 'Perhaps we'd better go one at a time. You first,' he invited graciously.

'Well, my friend and I are – er – strangers around here. No doubt you're wondering about our – um –spa – um – craft over there.' Apollo floundered helplessly and then decided to take the plunge. 'Look, the truth is, we're lost. We seem to be a bit off course and we've run very low on fuel. If you could just direct us to the nearest liquid mercury fuel[1] supplier, we'd be most appreciative. Once we're fuelled up, we'll be on our way.'

'On your way where?' asked Biggles curiously. He was beginning to get a strange feeling about all this.

'Well – on our way back home – that is, um, where we came from.'

'I see. I don't suppose you'd like to tell me where 'home' is, exactly?'

'Not precisely – no. To be honest, I'm not quite sure myself,' added Apollo disarmingly.

Biggles considered for a moment. 'I suppose, since **you're** lost, too, that you wouldn't be able to tell me just where we are at the moment?'

Apollo looked curiously at Biggles. He, too, was beginning to get a strange feeling about the situation. 'You said, "_lost, too_". Do you mean that you're not from around here, either?'

'Well, I don't think so,' said Biggles slowly. 'I'm quite sure I've not been here before. At least NOT here, _now_.' He rubbed the back of his head ruefully. 'I think we may be even more lost than you are.'

'I doubt it,' laughed Apollo shortly. He made a quick decision and thrust out his hand.

'I'm Apollo. My friend over there by our Vipers is Starbuck. We're not from around here in any sense of the term. We're NOT from earth at all.'

The British fighter ace looked at the Galactic Warrior in silence for some moments. Then he sighed. 'I have no idea what's going on. I have no idea why I believe you. But somehow, I do. Perhaps we should talk. Your place or mine?' He grinned.

Apollo looked blank for a moment and then smiled. 'Oh. I see. Well, we can't fit into a Viper. We'd better join you, I think.' He waved to Starbuck who quickly joined them and the three moved back into the Beaufort.

'I'm James Bigglesworth – Squadron Leader in the Royal Air Force. British Air Force, that is. And these are three of my officers – Flight Lieutenants Algy Lacey and Bertie Lissie, and Flying Officer Ginger Hebblethwaite. Do you want to tell us your story, first?'

Apollo and Starbuck recognised the casual authority in Biggles' voice. He was a man obviously accustomed to being obeyed. But Apollo found he felt no resentment. The Squadron Leader imparted a quiet confidence.

'I'm actually Captain Apollo and this is Lieutenant Starbuck. We're both Galactic Warriors – and, er – our Fleet – or what's left of it – is many, many parsecs away. Um, I think it's actually on the other side of the Galaxy and we really haven't a clue as to how we've come to be here, wherever "here" is!'

'Well, in some ways our stories are very similar, Captain. We were being chased across the North Sea, here on Earth, by a squadron of enemy fighters. Next thing we knew we were flying over what we suspect is Southern California, which is almost on the other side of the world. This aircraft doesn't have that range, nor the capability to fly so far in such a short time.'

'You know, old boy, I hope you don't feel obliged to shoot me down in flames and all that sort of thing, but it's the _time_ thing that bothers me about all this. According to my watch, here, it's only just over an hour since we last saw Jerry. But that sign out there keeps flashing what I think must be the time _and the date_. Why don't you have a look-see and see what you make of it, if you see what I mean?'

Apollo and Starbuck looked slightly taken aback at Bertie's style of speech but obviously none of his companions were. Although Lord Bertie Lissie could talk more twaddle per minute than most, he was a very astute officer, a fact he preferred to hide from all but those who knew him well. The RAF men looked across the nearby highway to the sign Bertie pointed out. It was some distance away, but they could read it quite clearly. As they watched, it flashed out the time: _4.30_, followed by what was obviously a date – _03:03:82_.

'It can't be…' Algy shook his head disbelievingly.

'Third of the third – 1982!' Ginger's voice had a slight edge of hysteria.

Apollo and Starbuck exchanged glances and shrugged. 'What's wrong with the date?' queried Apollo.

'Just that this morning, it was _1942_. At least, it was in England,' Biggles explained quietly. That strange feeling he had experienced earlier had prepared him for something unusual, but this was an extremely nasty shock. 'Look, I don't know what's happened to bring us forward in time 40 years – if in fact that's the case – but it seems too much of a coincidence for us to arrive here within seconds of your arriving so precipitously from outer space!'

'You think the two events are linked.' commented Algy shrewdly.

'Well, it would be stretching coincidence a little too far, don't you think?'

'I agree with the Squadron Leader,' nodded Apollo. 'What are we going to do about it? Starbuck and I need fuel and a quiet departure. I guess you do, too. But you need to get back to your own time. That means we've got to find out what caused this so we can try to undo what's happened.'

'My friends call me Biggles,' smiled the "Squadron Leader". You're right, Apollo. We'll have to get to the bottom of this before more damage is done. Heaven knows what mischief could erupt!'

'What's that?' exclaimed Ginger, pointing to the trees on the far side of the airfield. As they all looked, Ginger's mouth dropped open. The strange sparkling effect that had attracted his attention ceased and three men solidified before their eyes.

….

'Damn,' muttered Kirk. 'I thought you and Scotty said this was a deserted area, Spock.'

'The sensors indicated that it was, Captain. It would appear that they, too, have suffered some damage during our somewhat precipitate journey through time and space.'

The three _Enterprise_ officers stared across the airfield to the group of men gazing at them from the open hatch of an ancient aircraft.

'What are you gonna do now, Jim?'

"I haven't the faintest idea, Bones,' retorted his captain tersely. 'At least we're dressed for the time and Spock's ears are covered this time.'

As the three talked, two of their watchers dropped lightly from the aircraft and walked quickly towards them. Spock raised a speculative eyebrow as he took in the uniforms the members of the other group were wearing. Kirk watched the approaching figures with a mixture of curiosity and resignation. One was about his own age, of similar height and colouring, but slighter build. The navy blue uniform with the wings above the left breast pocket teased at Kirk's memory. He frowned slightly as he tried to place it. The second man wore the type of uniform which, unlikely though it seemed, Kirk has seen in his own time – worn by space fighters.

'Good evening,' greeted Biggles. 'We saw you arrive. Do you usually travel like this?'

'Quite often, actually,' responded Kirk. 'May I ask your name?'

'Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth,' replied Biggles evenly, with a slight quirk of his mouth.

'And I'm Captain Apollo.'

There was a brief pause as the men surveyed one another. Kirk was puzzled by the attitude of the two newcomers. They hadn't displayed any real surprise; in fact the Squadron Leader seemed to be quietly amused at something.

'Yes. Well, I'm James T. Kirk and these are my friends. Dr McCoy and – Mr Spock. I know you're wondering about the way we arrived. It's sort of an experimental device. Top secret.'

'Oh, I see. You're not strangers around here, then?'

'No,' replied Kirk seriously with perfect honesty. He knew Southern California quite well. Three hundred years from now. 'You're English, aren't you?' he asked suddenly.

'Yes.' Biggles thought for a moment and decided the conversation was going nowhere. He didn't believe these three were what they were pretending to be – whatever that was. In fact, he was beginning to feel their strange arrival was in some way connected to his own. _Well_, he thought wryly, _we've nothing to lose_.

'Yes, I'm English. I'm a Squadron Leader in the British Royal Air Force. At least – I was – 40 years ago. My friends and I seem to have become rather displaced in time.' The three Starfleet officers regarded Biggles and Apollo seriously. Spock's eyebrow rose consideringly.

'I see,' said Kirk quietly. 'And you, Captain Apollo?'

'Well, I'm not sure about the time aspect. But my friend and I have certainly been displaced – in space. We were on the other side of the Galaxy – I think.'

Kirk looked at his own officers and shrugged. 'Gentlemen, I think we should all talk.'

The nine men surveyed one another silently in the cramped fuselage of the RAF Beaufort. The similarity of their stories could not be shrugged aside. Biggles eyed Kirk consideringly. 'So, you need some fuel to fire up your spaceship; Apollo and Starbuck need fuel to fire up their Vipers; and we certainly need some juice for this old girl. But, how is that going to help any of us get back to where we belong – to our own times?'

'For us, that may not present a great problem, Squadron Leader,' replied Spock formally. The RAF men were becoming accustomed to Spock's manner of speech. 'However, it does present an interesting exercise in time and space dynamics calculation, to arrive at an acceptable solution to your dilemma.'

'If by that you mean "easy for you – difficult for us", old bean, then I'm in complete agreement. Yes, by Jove…' Bertie broke off as he saw Biggles' eye on him.

'Jim, how do we know we're the only ones who've been affected?' McCoy broke in suddenly. All eyes switched to him.

'The doctor has raised a valid point, Captain. It is indeed highly probably that we are not the only ones who have been affected by this phenomenon. However, since we have all been drawn to this one area, I would venture to speculate that any others would be similarly placed…'

'You're "speculatin' ", Spock?' McCoy's interruption was cut short by Kirk's glare.

'…and as we are the only ones to arrive, it is _logical_ to presume that we are probably the only ones affected,' Spock finished with an eyebrow raised at McCoy.

'But you can't be sure, Spock?'

'Captain, it would be difficult to calculate the odds without more data.'

'In other words, Jim, he doesn't know, any more than we do!'

'That is a quite unwarranted assumption on your part, Doctor,' returned the First Officer mildly. 'I merely…'

'Spock, Bones – not now. We need to find out _what_ brought us all here – and _why_. It's too much of a coincidence that we should have all been affected randomly. We can't risk any further damage to the time/space continuum. Whatever caused this must be somewhere around here.' Kirk's voice took on a note of sudden confidence.

'How do you figure that, Captain?' queried Starbuck.

'Just call it a hunch, Lieutenant,' smiled Kirk.

'I agree with Captain Kirk,' asserted Biggles. 'The sooner we sort out a plan of action and get cracking, the sooner we'll be able to tackle the problem.'

Spock watched the RAF Squadron Leader. He had already been struck by the similarities between Kirk and Bigglesworth: both were obviously men of action. He hoped their combined impulsiveness would not precipitate disaster. He sighed inwardly. He trusted his own Captain implicitly, of course.

'I agree, too,' Apollo nodded. 'I think _time_ is the common factor for each of us. We need to discover the reason behind all this and then put it right. The fuel problem is secondary.'

* * *

[1] Vipers have three Ion engines, providing the ship with a maximum acceleration of 110.25 m/s^2 and a speed greater than Mach-3 in atmosphere. Vipers use liquid mercury fuel for their Ion engines, stored in the wings and two internal fuel tanks. .


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Bodie and Doyle watched the passing sights curiously as the black and white sped through the traffic. Hooker handled the car easily. 'This shouldn't take long. Someone's reported some suspicious activity out by the old Naval Air base at El Domino. Probably just a false alarm.'

'Yeah. If your chief's anything like ours, you're expected to solve the problems of the universe – in any one given day,' sympathised Doyle.

'It goes with being a good cop,' grinned Hooker into the rear vision mirror. 'Well, here we are. Let's see what the problem is.' He turned the car into the entrance to the airfield and headed towards the only signs of life – an old twin-engined aircraft parked on the runway and two jet fighters that looked like something from a _Star Wars_ set.

'Could be some studio setting up to do some shots on location,' commented Romano.

'Yeah, could be. Although they usually let us know.' Hooker stopped the car in the path of the aircraft and cautiously opened the door. Pulling his police revolver, he stepped out. 'Cover me.'

The group in the Beaufort looked at one another in a mixture of mild annoyance, exasperation and curiosity as the black and white vehicle approached and pulled up.

'Somehow, I do not believe these gentlemen have been affected in the same way as ourselves, Jim,' observed Spock drily. 'That vehicle would appear to be consistent with this era.'

'And that appears to be an authentic late 20th century policeman approaching us,' commented McCoy. 'Now what are we gonna do?' No one answered the doctor's question. They watched the approaching policeman in silence. When he neared the open hatch, he stopped.

'You guys in there, what are you doing?'

Kirk jerked his head quickly in Spock's direction and his First Officer quickly moved out of sight. Kirk and McCoy moved into the policeman's line of vision. McCoy stared. His mouth open and shut. Kirk and Hooker stared at one another. 'We're not doing anything in particular – er Sergeant.' Kirk hoped he had the rank correct. Was his imagination playing tricks, or was this man really his double? A quick glance at McCoy confirmed it.

Hooker, too, was wondering if HIS eyes were playing tricks. The man opposite was so like himself that he had the uncanny sensation of looking in a mirror. He gave himself a quick mental shake. 'Would you mind hopping down and telling me about it, then – Mr – ?'

'Kirk. Jim Kirk.' He jumped lighted to the ground, followed by McCoy. 'And this is Dr Leonard McCoy.'

'And your friends in the airplane, there. Care to introduce them as well?' The revolver didn't waver. Kirk glanced towards the car and noted the three occupants – one uniformed similarly to the sergeant, and two in civilian garb. He guessed correctly that all three were covering the policeman confronting them.

'What friends, sergeant? Dr McCoy and I were simply looking at this – um – vintage airplane. They're a hobby of mine. I'm quite a student of history.'

'Then you won't mind if I have a look around either,' smiled Hooker in return. 'It seems we share a similar interest. As well as our appearance!'

Kirk began to think he may have met his match in the bluffing game. 'Well, normally, I'd be happy to show you around, but the owner is rather fussy about his airplanes and I only have permission for the two of us to look at it. Perhaps we could organise another time…' Kirk's voice ran down and he shrugged casually.

'Now, what possible objections could an honest man have to my looking inside? If there's nothing to hide, then there's no problem, is there?'

'Ah, excuse my askin', Sergeant,' said McCoy in his best Southern drawl, 'but would you happen to have a search warrant on y'all?'

Hooker narrowed his eyes as he looked at the doctor. 'Why do you ask that?'

'Oh, I just thought law enforcement officers needed one before they could enter private property?'

Whatever these guys were, they weren't stupid. Hooker looked at them closely and decided to play a hunch. 'Okay. But there's nothing to stop me taking you both in on suspicion of loitering with intent. Now why don't you drop this nonsense and tell me what's going on? Because I am getting _very_ suspicious. And ask your friends to step out of the airplane.'

In response to a quick gesture from Hooker, the three in the car quietly joined him – Romano with his revolver at the ready, while Bodie and Doyle stood behind the policemen. The four British airmen jumped down and joined the two Starfleet officers. Biggles smiled at Hooker apologetically. 'Sorry for the misunderstanding, Sergeant – er – ?'

'Hooker. And you are?' Hooker's gaze included all four newcomers.

'Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth, and these are my friends – Flight Lieutenant the Honourable Algy Lacey, Flight Lieutenant Lord Bertie Lissie, and Flying Officer Ginger Hebblethwaite. This is our aeroplane that our friends here are inspecting. Sorry for the trouble we seem to have caused.'

'You guys British?'

'That's right.'

'What did you say your names were again?' Bodie interrupted with a puzzled frown. After Biggles repeated his statement, Bodie's frown deepened. The names teased at his memory.

'You look like you're dressed for some Battle of Britain re-enactment. And this aeroplane certainly looks the part – even the shrapnel holes in the fuselage and wings.' Doyle had been using his time to good advantage.

'That's it!' Bodie turned to Doyle in triumph. 'Battle of Britain! I thought I knew those names!' He turned back to the airmen, his face hardening. 'What do you think you're pulling? Those blokes are old men, now! Bigglesworth's squadron was famous in the Second World War,' he added as an aside for Hooker and Romano's benefit. 'The four men he just named are among our most famous RAF fighter pilots. They flew Spitfires during the Battle of Britain.'

'But that was forty years ago,' Doyle added sceptically.

'Want to take it from the top, again? How about some ID?' Hooker's gun still hadn't wavered. When this request was greeted with silence, Hooker gestured slightly and Doyle expertly frisked Biggles, removing his wallet, along with various items which caused the CI5 man to raise his eyebrows speculatively – especially the service pistol he removed from Biggles side pocket.

'Take a gander at this,' Doyle invited his companions as he looked inside the wallet. Hooker, Romano and Bodie each looked in turn.

'Is there something I'm missing – apart from the date on that card?'

'Yeah, sergeant. This money. It's the old pound note currency. Really old – pre-decimal currency. Probably World War II vintage, I'd say at a rough guess. Wouldn't you Bodie?' His partner nodded silent agreement.

'Okay. Do you guys want to start again? Who are you and what are you doing?' Hooker's eyes had hardened. (_Just the way Jim's do_, thought McCoy.)

'And who's been shooting up this aeroplane recently?' Doyle had taken a closer inspection of the damaged wing, running his fingers around the holes. 'I'm no expert, but I'd be willing to lay odds that you've been shot at very recently.' Biggles and Kirk exchanged glances. Kirk spoke.

'Sergeant, if we told you the truth, you'd never believe us.'

'Try me.'

'Okay,' Kirk shrugged. 'I'm from Iowa but I work in outer space, as does Dr McCoy. Our space ship got caught in a space-time continuum distortion wave and deposited us right back here in sunny California.' Hooker treated the speaker to what could be described as an old-fashioned look.

'So. That explains you two. What about you, er – Squadron Leader Bigglesworth?'

'I doubt that you'll believe me, either, Sergeant. However – my companions and I seem to have been caught in the same phenomenon which displaced our two friends here. In our case, we have been transported from the North Sea coast of England – circa 1942 – to California also. How it has happened, I can't even hazard a guess. I'm just a fighter pilot – and so are my friends.'

The four policemen exchanged glances. 'You're right. I don't believe it. And I'm taking you all in. Call up re-inforcements, Romano. Now I really want to know what's going on.'

'Wait a moment, Hooker.' Bodie turned to Biggles with a slightly speculative smile. 'If you're who you say you are, I think we have a mutual acquaintance. How long since you last saw George Cowley?'

'I certainly know a George Cowley.' It was Biggles' turn to give Bodie a speculative look. 'But how do I know we're talking about the same man?'

'You tell us what you know about him and we'll figure if it's the same one. What's he doing in _your_ time? What's his role in the war?'

'That's classified,' Biggles' eyes had narrowed. 'Everyone's role is.'

'What's his favourite drink, then?'

'That's easy. Scotch Whisky. The George Cowley I know is a Scot. But apart from that, I can't tell you anything.' Bodie and Doyle exchanged looks.

'What do you think, Ray?'

'I think I'd like to hear the whole story,' said Doyle. 'Wouldn't you, Sergeant Hooker?'

'Perhaps we can oblige.' The four policemen glanced towards the hatch, momentarily distracted. But it was enough. Spock had the phaser set on low stun, wide beam.

'Nice work, Spock. Here, let's get them inside.' Kirk bent down towards his 20th century doppelganger.

'How long will they be out to it?'

'Not long. We've no time to lose.' Kirk glanced towards Algy as he replied. In short time, the four policemen were half-lying, half-sitting against the inside wall of the Beaufort, which was now becoming very cramped. Their weapons were held by Kirk, Biggles, Algy and Apollo.

'Tell me, Spock,' drawled McCoy. 'How did you reason the logic behind stunning four twentieth century policemen? How the hell are we gonna explain this, Jim? We can't tell these people the truth about us!'

'I'm afraid we're going to have to tell them something of it, Bones. This is getting right out of hand!' Kirk's gesture indicated his frustration. A low moan focused their attention back towards the policemen.

'I believe we need to decide right now what we _are_ going to tell them,' said Biggles briskly, glancing from Kirk to Apollo.

'The Squadron Leader is correct, Jim. We must decide.'

'They didn't seem interested in believing the truth when you two told them before.' Apollo's observation was almost a question.

'I venture to comment that the manner in which Captain Kirk and Squadron Leader Bigglesworth told these gentlemen the truth did not lend itself to instant belief, Captain Apollo.'

'You're right, Spock,' agreed Kirk. 'What are your thoughts, Bigglesworth?'

'I've always believed that _honesty is the best policy_, although at times it hasn't worked out that way! I don't think we've much choice – we all need help to get out of this. And I think these chaps might be able to help us, if we can just convince them to do so. What do you think, Apollo?'

The Galactic Warrior shrugged. 'We've nothing to lose, now. Let's go for broke!'

While the discussion had taken place, the four on the floor had gradually regained consciousness and rolled into more upright positions. 'Don't move too suddenly,' warned McCoy. 'The effects take a while to wear off. But you won't suffer any lasting damage.'

'I'm relieved to hear it.' Doyle moved cautiously into a more upright position.

'K-9, wait. I can't keep up,' called Romana as the robotic dog suddenly increased its speed. 'Where are you going? Come back!'

'I will investigate, Mistress.' K-9's words floated back as Romana found herself running to keep the dog in sight. To her annoyance, it turned off the footpath and passed through a gap in the high timber fence bordering the side street she had been following. The beach was still visible to her right, but the street had been steadily angling away from the coastline and its housing. She threw a glance over her shoulder to where she could see the Tardis now some distance behind her. Shaking her head, she bent and followed through the gap. As she straightened up, she stared in surprise at the sight before her. K-9 continued rolling towards an old British RAF Beaufort. Close beside her were two spacecraft that she didn't immediately recognise.

'K-9!' she called crisply as she walked across the abandoned airfield. 'Come here!'

'Some things do not belong here, Mistress,' reported K-9. 'We must tell the Doctor.'

'What things?'

'This aeroplane is displaced in both time and location,' said the robot as it continued on its path towards the Beaufort. 'But not all the people within are affected.'

'K-9,' repeated Romana, 'I don't think…' She threw up her hands in defeat as a figure appeared in the door and then jumped lightly to the ground, quickly followed by another wearing an old WW2 RAF uniform. 'Hello,' she smiled brightly. 'I was just passing when my dog, well he's a robot actually, became slightly diverted by your aeroplane, here.'

The man wearing the uniform looked curiously at K-9 and then back at the girl. 'You're English?'

'Not really,' she smiled. She looked at the other man, whose face wore a rather bemused expression. 'Where are you people from, if you don't mind my asking?'

'That's a good question,' responded the second man with a charming smile. 'Maybe we could ask you the same one.'

'These humans are not from this time, mistress,' announced K-9. 'But there are some in the aircraft that are. And one is not human.'

Biggles raised his eyebrows as the robot dog spoke. He was far beyond being surprised by anything today. Kirk looked from K-9 to Romana. 'I think you might have some answers to our own questions, Miss…?'

'Call me Romana. It's easier than my full name, Romanadvoratrelundar. People sometimes have trouble getting their tongues around that.'

'I can well understand that,' responded Biggles. 'Are you from around here…or are you also from outer space by any chance?'

'Oh dear. I can see this might be complicated,' she sighed. She looked at Kirk, 'You don't seem surprised by K-9, so I presume you're familiar with computers and artificial life forms?'

'You might be surprised at what I'm familiar with, Miss Romana,' replied Kirk. 'I very much doubt that your robot dog is a product of 20th century Earth technology. And I also suspect that you may be involved in whatever anomaly has brought us here together. Would you care to enlighten us?'

'There are more life-forms in this aircraft, mistress. Some have weapons aimed at us,' interrupted K-9.

'Thank you, K-9,' Romana rested a cautionary hand on its head. 'Yes, perhaps I can explain. But I must ask your friends to put their weapons away. It would help me if you'd all share your stories and then I can see if I can be of any help.'

'The Doctor will help,' contributed K-9.

Biggles and Kirk looked at the robot in bemusement. 'How does it know one of our group is a doctor?' asked Kirk.

'He doesn't mean "a doctor". He means "The Doctor",' explained Romana. The two men exchanged glances, obviously not precisely enlightened by the girl's explanation. 'Oh dear, this **is** going to be complicated. Would you please ask your friends to step down so we can all talk?'

Biggles looked at Kirk and shrugged his agreement. He walked back to the door and spoke quietly to those within. The two uniformed policemen stepped down first, staring in amazement at K-9, followed by Bodie and Doyle. The others joined them on the ground and Romana looked at them all in resigned chagrin.

'He's really muddled things up this time, K-9,' she sighed, shaking her head. She looked at the RAF men consideringly. 'I suspect you've come forward in time a few years. Those uniforms look World War Two-ish…British Royal Air Force. Would that be right?'

The four fighter pilots exchanged amused looks and Biggles nodded affirmation. He explained what had happened to them. Bodie and Doyle stared.

'Do you seriously expect us to believe that?' asked Doyle sceptically.

'Whether you believe it or not is quite irrelevant,' replied Biggles with a slight smile. 'It happens to be the truth. And while I'm very happy and relieved to have escaped from those bandits who were hell-bent on shooting us down, I don't particularly want to stay here, wherever 'here' happens to be.'

'No, by Jingo,' murmured Bertie. 'I've got a mare about to foal…'

'There's just the slight matter of a war our country…and the rest of the world's involved in,' interrupted Biggles cuttingly. 'And I have a Squadron awaiting our return,' he added.

'Of course, old boy. Absolutely, absolutely,' nodded Bertie, polishing his monocle vigorously.

Romana nodded. 'Yes, we'll have to make sure you all get back safely.' She looked at the four 20th century policemen. 'As the Squadron Leader observed, your belief or otherwise is irrelevant. It doesn't alter the facts.' She looked at Apollo and Starbuck. 'Perhaps you'd like to tell your story?' Romana listened to the Galactic Warriors' story and then that of the _Enterprise_ officers.

'You seem to have some understanding of what's behind this, Miss Romana,' commented Biggles as Kirk finished his tale.

'Romana, please, not _Miss_,' smiled Romana. 'And yes, I believe I know the cause of your respective displacements. I need to talk to my friend.'

'The Doctor is coming, Mistress,' announced K-9, spinning around to face the area behind Romana.

'Ah, here you are, Romana. I wondered where you'd wandered off to.' The men all stared at the strange figure that the robot dog now appeared to be greeting. 'Yes, K-9. I'm happy to see you, too.'

'And you are…?' enquired Biggles pointedly.

'Oh, I'm the Doctor. Now if you could just tell me your names and what the problem seems to be, we'll see if we can help. Perhaps you could start,' he nodded to Biggles. After each group had been introduced by its respective leader, a somewhat bemused Biggles asked again.

'I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. You are Doctor…who…?'

The Doctor beamed. 'That's right. Now we need to sort all this muddle out…'

'Just a minute,' interrupted Biggles somewhat peremptorily, 'I asked your name. We've given ours. We'd like to know yours.'

'My dear man, you just said it yourself,' beamed the Doctor again. 'I am the Doctor.'

'Yes, but Doctor whom? What's your _name_.'

'Not _whom_…_Who_,' corrected the Doctor. 'You had it right the first time. Now, we've no time to waste.'

'Cracked,' murmured Algy to no one in particular.

The Doctor gave him a sharp glance and shoved a small white packet at him. 'Jelly baby?'

'What?'

'Jelly babies…would you like one?'

'Uh…no thanks,' Algy shook his head and exchanged a desperate glance with Biggles.

'Well, just be quiet then, while I'm thinking,' retorted the Doctor, flinging the end of a particularly long scarf over his shoulder.

'Doctor, I think when the actuators blew, that it somehow affected the time stream in three different areas of time and space and has drawn these people here along with the Tardis,' suggested Romana.

'That's rather obvious, isn't it? What we need to do, is calculate what we need to do to fix the Tardis while at the same time sending each one back to where they came from.'

'I believe that is what the mistress was saying, master,' said K-9, to the amusement of the humans present.

'Are you saying you can return us all to where AND when we came from?' asked Biggles.

'Certainly. Can't have the time stream upset as much as this. One or two little incidents that are of no overall consequence don't really matter. But to have all three groups of you here together…hmmm, that could be a problem. But I think I know how we can do it,' smiled the Doctor triumphantly. 'Romana, what we need…'

'Just a minute,' interrupted Biggles, holding up his hand. 'When you're talking about returning us, do you mean you'll put us back exactly where we were in time?'

'I do, indeed. It's fairly simple, really…'

'I'm sure it is,' nodded Biggles in agreement. 'But that might not exactly suit us. You see, we might be in a bit of a fix if you do it too precisely. I don't suppose you could place us about fifty miles closer to the English coast than we were when you did whatever it was you did?'

'Yes,' agreed Apollo. 'It'd be helpful if we could be returned to a position a bit closer to the _Galactica_, if you could do it. That'd give us a head start on those Cylons.'

The Doctor looked from one to the other and then at Kirk. 'What about you, Captain Kirk? Do you want me to manipulate time, space and history to your advantage as well?'

'Well, now that you mention it,' smiled Kirk, rubbing his chin reflectively. 'A bit closer to Star Base would be helpful, too.'

'Just a minute. Just a minute!' interrupted Hooker abruptly. 'I still don't know what's going on here. Do you really expect us to believe these tall tales you've just been spinning? If you think I'm just going to calmly let you vanish, you're barking up the wrong tree!'

The Doctor turned to the irate police sergeant and smiled again. 'What is your objection, sergeant? What law have these gentlemen broken?'

Hooker returned the Doctor's smile with a hard stare of his own. 'I don't know what law they've broken, but I'm sure I'll find it when I start digging deep enough. I am not letting you make off with possible criminals!'

'I can assure you that none of us are criminals, sergeant,' said Spock stiffly, standing tall and straight, and looking, for a Vulcan, somewhat offended.

'The point is, sergeant, that I've caused all these people to become displaced in time and space and it's my responsibility to return them to their own time. The only issue at stake is whether I can re-position them in a slightly more advantageous position without compromising their respective histories and time streams. K-9, can you help give me the relevant data and then I'll need to go back to the Tardis and sort it all out.'

'What IS this Tardis you keep talking about?' queried Doyle.

'It's my Time Travel Machine,' smiled the Doctor.

'Okay. That's enough. I'm taking you all in,' said Hooker belligerently.

'And just how do you intend doing that?' asked Kirk, casually pointing his phaser at the angry policeman.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances and Doyle held up a placating hand. 'Look, Hooker. Strange as it may seem, Bodie and I tend to believe them. We've heard about these four RAF blokes from our boss – he knew them back in the War. Although the Squadron Leader's acting all coy, I'm pretty sure they did some work together. The stuff he was carrying on him pretty much convinces us, anyway. Why would anyone carry around RAF ID from 40 years ago AND English currency that's way out of date and circulation? I think they're the real thing. I don't understand it. I don't think I even want to begin trying to understand it. How do we even begin trying to explain these two, anyway?' He gestured towards the two Galactic Warriors. 'Either they're for real or they're from some SciFi set. I'm all for seeing if this Doctor here can work his magic and make them all vanish before our eyes – while we're conscious and watching him.'

The Doctor smiled. 'If all goes well, my dear chap, you four won't remember anything about it anyway, because it will never have happened.'

'What do you intend doing, if I may ask?' enquired Spock with a tilt of his head.

The Doctor looked at him consideringly and then smiled. 'A Vulcan. Yes, well, even you might struggle to fully understand the Tardis, sir. But I'll try to make it simple.' Ignoring Spock's obvious affront, he burst into a torrent of techno-babble speak which made all except Romana blink. K-9 nodded his robot head in solemn agreement.

'Agreed, master. However, you will need to do so within the next ten minutes because the artificial tear in the temporal continuum affecting these thee areas has already begun to close.'

'Ahhh. Thank you K-9. In that case I shall set to work immediately.' He turned to Biggles. 'Squadron Leader, I shall see what I can do to oblige. But I cannot guarantee anything, you understand?'

Biggles nodded with a whimsical smile. 'Of course. I thought it was worth asking, that's all.'

The Doctor turned to the two groups of space travellers. 'I shall do my best to meet your requests, too, but again, I can't guarantee anything.'

Romana rolled her eyes. 'If I were any of you, I'd just be extremely grateful to arrive back anytime within one to five years of your origin!' she muttered as the Doctor hurried off.

Almost immediately, the group was shaken by an indescribable sound accompanied by rushing wind. They stared, eyes widened in shocked disbelief as a blue London Police Box materialised a few feet away. The door opened and the Doctor stepped out.

'I'll control everything from inside the Tardis. It's easier if I'm on the spot, so I brought it here,' he beamed. 'Now, Squadron Leader, if you and your party would resume your seats in your aeroplane…'

'Just a moment, Doctor,' interrupted Biggles. 'There's just the small matter of fuel. We have about a pint left in our reserve tank and that's it. I have to top up before we can go anywhere, let alone back into combat!'

Once again the Doctor smiled at everyone. 'None of you will have any fuel problems, gentlemen, because you'll be returned to your original positions – or close enough, anyway – and fuel won't be an issue. Now please hurry everyone. We have no time to lose. Captain Kirk, you will have to ask your ship to beam the three of you back up immediately, please.'

Before the astounded eyes of Doyle, Bodie, Hooker and Romano, the three _Enterprise_ men sparkled into non-existence almost as soon as Kirk spoke into what appeared to be a small handset. Apollo and Starbuck hurriedly climbed into their respective Vipers while the four RAF airmen returned to the Beaufort and closed the door. The girl and the robot dog followed the Doctor into the Police Box, and while the four were staring at one another, the strange noise reoccurred.

'Well, what do you think that was all about, Hooker?' asked Romano as they all walked back to the police car. 'Why were we called here? It's nothing but an empty disused airfield…' The four re-entered the black and white and it soon rejoined the traffic on the 405.

[The _Enterprise_]

'What was that bump, Jim?' asked McCoy as he exited the turbolift onto the Bridge. Spock, at his Science Station raised an eyebrow but forebore to comment.

'No idea, Bones,' replied Kirk disinterestedly as he glanced up at the forward view screen. All was serene in space and Star Base 4 was coming into view. Maybe this time he could find a beach to walk on somewhere.

[_Somewhere in space_]

'Apollo, sir. Is that the _Galactica_ to starboard?'

Apollo looked and saw the welcome sight of the home ship leading its ragtag fleet through space. _I wonder if we'll ever find the legendary planet of Earth_, he wondered as the two Vipers streaked for home and safety.

[_The North Sea, 1942_]

'Whew,' murmured Algy gratefully. 'I think I can see a few Spits coming out to greet us. The coast can't be too far now. You know, Biggles old son, for a moment there I wondered if we were going to make it.'

'You and me both,' responded Biggles with a lopsided grin. 'I wonder what happened to those Messers that were on our tail a few minutes ago?'

'They must have seen the Spits and decided to hightail it back to Hunland,' laughed Algy joyously.

[_CI5, London, two weeks later]_

'So you made it back and no far-fetched stories to spin, either,' Cowley greeted his two best operatives as they entered his office.

'Of course, sir,' said Bodie with an injured air. He broke off what he'd been going to say and walked over to a photo on a stand near the window. A young George Cowley stood with a group of RAF fighter pilots, circa 1940s. Bodie picked it up and stared at it curiously.

'You worked together with these RAF types in the War, didn't you, sir?'

'Aye, Bodie. You know that. Good men, all of them. Did an excellent job with establishing the Special Air Police after the War.'

Bodie looked across at Doyle as he replaced the photo.

'Yeah. Good to know they made it through,' he said with a curious smile.


End file.
